


Reminisce

by poselikeateam



Series: The Witcher: Director's Cut [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emotionally Constipated Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has ADHD, M/M, Married Life, Mel Brooks References, Multi, OT3, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam
Summary: [Based on that iconic scene from History of the World: Part I]Jaskier wasn'talwaysa bard. Yennefer, for some reason, is curious about what he had done before. It's not easy for him to admit that he tried to make his living as a philosopher first, but it's so rare for her to actuallyaskthat he can't really stop himself from sharing one of his most embarrassing stories.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Witcher: Director's Cut [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912885
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	Reminisce

**Author's Note:**

> So I went for a degree in history and philosophy. We all make mistakes. When I told my dad I was adding philosophy as my second major he spent the next like, _seven years_ referencing this scene. So this, my FIFTIETH WITCHER FIC, is dedicated to my dad. 
> 
> Y'all. This is my **_fiftieth witcher fic_**. What the fuck lmao

Contrary to popular belief, Jaskier has not always been a bard. He was not brought into this world with a lute in his tiny hands, and his wailing was no more musical than any other infant's. While his musical talent was something that he had cultivated over time, his love of performing, of attention, of being in the limelight, is something he's had his entire life. He likes to say that one day, he'll die as he was born: confused, screaming for attention, and possibly covered in someone else's blood. 

A man can dream, can't he?

At any rate, he wasn't always a bard. As a point of fact, one of the reasons he'd become a master in _all seven_ liberal arts is that he just couldn't _choose one_. He may be a bit of an idiot, sometimes, but no one can actually say that Jaskier is unintelligent. He's always been told (by his mother, his tutors, his professors, _Geralt_ ) that he has too much intelligence and not enough wisdom. He can live with that. Life is short, so why resist one's impulses? Why not really _enjoy_ it?

That's how he had thought at first, anyway. Then he met (and eventually married) a certain witcher and sorceress, the latter of whom decided to keep him. He's been around longer than he cares to admit, now, and look — he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This whole _functional immortality, eternal youth_ thing he's got going on now is fantastic, and not only because Geralt broods significantly less now that he doesn't think that their time together is just an hourglass, slowly emptying itself. He no longer acts like Jaskier is going to turn to dust in front of him at any given moment, which is fantastic. Yennefer likes to say _make no mistake, I can still kill you_ , but Jaskier knows it's just her way of expressing her fondness. She could kill him, absolutely, but she won't, because she _loves him_. 

Well, she might still kill him, but that's life. He'll probably deserve it, anyway.

The point, though, is not his fantastic (though still occasionally difficult to believe) marriage with two very sexy, powerful, emotionally constipated people. The point is not how much he loves falling asleep to Yennefer's perfectly-manicured nails gently, rhythmically, soothingly running up and down his back. The point is not how full his heart feels when both she and Geralt let down all their walls around him, because they _trust_ him. The point is not that sometimes, he finds himself weeping because he just can't contain how fucking _happy_ he is. 

The _point_ is that he was not always a bard.

Not even in his career. He'd started young, of course, taking to the road with his lute at the ripe old age of eighteen, but before _that_ he'd tried a different calling altogether. Because, see, he's always loved performing, and he's always loved thinking outside the box, using his intellect, solving problems. As much as he hates grading papers, he loves a good debate enough to keep going back and teaching at Oxenfurt every so often. 

So, the first liberal art to have taken him in was actually philosophy. 

It did not pay well. In fact, it paid even less than being a bard had in the beginning, because at least when he wasn't getting paid for his songs he was getting food thrown at him, which was still a meal. Philosophy did not even get him that much. 

Of course, Geralt and Yennefer find out about it. Well, Yennefer finds out. She has this way of knowing things that is probably at least partly due to mind reading but also probably has a lot to do with the web of connections that sorceresses all seem to have. She asks him about it, and he's embarrassed, of course he is. What grown man likes to relive the failures of his youth? Still, it's difficult for him to _not_ tell a story, especially when asked, and _especially_ when asked by _her_. She and Geralt _never_ ask him for stories, except when they do, but it's so _rare_ and every time it happens he can't keep the words from spilling out of his mouth. 

He remembers standing in the unemployment line, just seventeen years old, thinking more and more about just giving up and starting over as _something else_. He'd done it before, from viscount to philosopher; why couldn't he reinvent himself once more? (Of course, he did, as evidenced by his entire career from about that point onward. At the time, though, he still hadn't entirely made up his mind, yet.) 

The man in front of him had been dressed in his full Redanian Army getup, clearly tired and sitting on the cusp of _despair_ and _apathy_. Jaskier swore to himself that he would never get to that point, knowing he was already dangerously close. 

"Occupation?" the woman at the window asked the soldier. 

"Soldier," the soldier muttered.

"Did you kill last week?" she asked. She sounded gruff, and pulled off the _I'm not getting paid enough for this shit_ voice well. This was a woman that did not give a single fuck she wasn't paid to give, and Jaskier could appreciate that, in a strange way.

"No," the soldier mumbled, so quiet and ashamed that Jaskier could barely hear him.

"Did you _try_ to kill last week?" the woman pressed.

"Yes," the soldier mumbled. 

She sighed. "Look, this is your last week of unemployment," she had told him, coinpurse in hand. "Either you kill someone this week, or we're going to have to change your status." He agreed and took the money and shuffled off, and the woman called out for the next person.

"Occupation?" she asked Jaskier as he stepped up to the window. She didn't bother to look up from her paperwork, but Jaskier still, for whatever reason, felt the need to _perform_. As if he could show her that yes, he really _was_ putting in effort, and it somehow wasn't his fault that he was failing so miserably. Realistically, he knew that she didn't care. 

"Stand-up philosopher," he said, hands on his hips, voice filled with a pride that he did not actually feel. 

"What?"

He deflated. Why did he ever think this would be a good career choice? Somewhat exasperated in his tone, he said, "Stand-up philosopher." At her blank look, he sighed, and then said, "I coalesce the vapours of human experience into a viable and meaningful comprehension."

"Oh!" she said, facial expression not changing, but a tiny gleam of _some_ kind of interest in her eyes. His hopes of recognition of any sort were dashed when she exclaimed, "A bullshit artist!" 

Jaskier groaned, but she ignored him entirely and continued, _loudly_ , "Did you bullshit last week?"

"No," he answered with a glare. Really, she didn't need to call him out like this. Wasn't this experience embarrassing enough on its own?

"Did you _try_ to bullshit last week?"

 _"Yes,"_ he answered, sounding properly irritated at her now. 

"And that's when I decided, okay, enough is enough," he says now to his two lovely, wonderful, terrible, _evil_ spouses, only one of whom is actually putting in a vague effort to not laugh at him. He ignores it entirely and adds, "Just think, if not for that, I might never have met either of you!" 

Yennefer looks at him in a way that's at once amused and fond (loving, he'd even say, if he wanted her to absolutely kick his ass). "I don't know whether to thank her or curse her," she says, and Jaskier laughs. That's about as good as _I love you_ , between the two of them. And when it's paired with a soft huff of laughter from Geralt, it's the most beautiful joke anyone's ever made at his expense.


End file.
